


Woe is Key

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Again, Awkward First Time, M/M, for Jon, forgotten keys, le sex, love epiphany (kinda), while Theon doesn't notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: “Hey, Jon! What’s up, pal?”Theon can practically see Snow’s suspicious frown through the phone. Okay, maybe the ‘Jon’ has been a tad too much. The following sigh is heavy with… regret, probably. Over picking up when he saw who’s calling.“Why don’t you just tell me what you want, I say no and you get it anyway in the end?”Woah, someone’s especially cranky today. Not that that’s unusual, at least when Snow’s talking to him.





	Woe is Key

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt from a friend: Theon locks himself out of his and Robb's apartment while Robb is away, Jon has the spare keys. My head went further... And Theon decides to fuck Jon while getting those keys. 
> 
> It turned out a bit different than that, and got a little angsty in between the sex. Huh.

Well, fuck.

Theon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then another. When he opens his eyes, the door is still closed. Theon is standing in the hallway, newspaper in hand, and his keys are in the pocket of his jeans. Unfortunately not the ones he’s wearing right now.

Robb appears in his mind, drinking a fancy cocktail on a rooftop bar. Or maybe he’s lounging at the pool. Or hitting on someone in the club’s disco. Or playing mini golf with his mum, always the perfect son.

 _He_ wouldn’t get himself into such a mess, Theon is sure. The Robb in his mind is now jiggling his own keys mockingly, something real Robb would never do. Real Robb wouldn’t even have taken his keys to an all inclusive beach hotel, he would’ve left them with-

Ah. Well, fuckety-fuck.

***

“Yes.”

“Hey, Jon! What’s up, pal?”

Theon can practically see Snow’s suspicious frown through the phone. Okay, maybe the ‘Jon’ has been a tad too much. The following sigh is heavy with… regret, probably. Over picking up when he saw who’s calling.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want, I say no and you get it anyway in the end?”

Woah, someone’s especially cranky today. Not that that’s unusual, at least when Snow’s talking to _him_.

“You know how Robb is away? And I’m bored and thought we could go for a beer and you tell me all about that fascinating new project of yours.”

The silence following his words continues for so long Theon is sure he’s gone overboard now. He drums his fingers on the table in the coffeehouse he’s sitting in and starts counting. Only when he gets to thirty-seven, a derisive snort reaches his ear.

“When. Where.”

“Would you please reign in your enthusiasm, Snow? I’m getting all giddy with your level of excitement.” Theon rolls his eyes. “The Dead Man’s Chest, half past five?”

“Good gods.”

The phone in Theon’s hand starts tooting and he looks at it in indignation. Call terminated. Theon shrugs. At least Snow hasn’t said no.

Sure, he could just walk over - his wallet is in the same jeans as the keys, so no taxi - and ask Snow for the keys, but where would be the fun in that? And it’d be slightly embarrassing. He’s older than both Robb and Snow by two years, and still he’s got no idea how to adult.

Theon looks around the cafe, gaze zooming in on an unassuming guy who’s pretending to read his thick book while sneaking glances in Theon’s direction. Theon winks and book guy blushes before ducking behind ‘Night Visions 3’.

He writes a number on a napkin - Jory’s this time, never his own - and leaves with a questioning look in book guy’s direction. He can see the waiter starting to come after him, and, predictably, book guy stops him, gesticulating at Theon’s table.

He sighs and shakes his head. Sometimes this is almost too easy.

***

Upon entering the dimly lit pub, Theon lets his gaze roam over the few people that are here that early. A couple old guys, a very nice looking girl - wedding ring, Theon notes with a pang of regret - and a guy in very tight jeans with one of the prettiest butts Theon has ever seen.

Unfortunately he’s got no time to figure out how to get his hands on said butt. Snow’s not here yet, so Theon nods to the barkeeper, a tall, ugly guy called Dagmer. He leans against the bar.

“Hey, mate. Scotch on the rocks, please. Put it on my tab.”

While he’s waiting for his drink, Theon inconspicuously tries to look over at pretty butt guy to see if he’s that mouth-watering from the front as well. And gets the shock of his life when he finds Snow glaring at him.

Snow-with-the-pretty-butt.

Theon is at a loss. Sure, he’s seen Snow’s butt in jeans before (and yes, he has noticed how delicious it looks) but always with the knowledge who’s butt it is and how that someone feels about him. (That is, indifferent on good days, ready to murder him on bad days.)

He realizes he’s staring in the general direction of Snow’s crotch and quickly looks up. Snow is wearing a black leather jacket over a tight, grey jumper, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for Theon to say something.

“You’ve got your hair tied back,” Theon says, jumping on the first topic coming to his mind. “Didn’t recognize you.”

Snow huffs, taking his beer bottle and wandering over to a free table. He hasn’t said a single word yet, and Theon sighs inwardly while following. Looks like he’ll have to work really hard for those keys.

Snow leans back, arms hooked on the backseat of the bench. He’s spread his legs, and involuntarily Theon sneaks another glance at the taut denim stretching over - better look at Snow’s chest.

Which looks really good in that probably incredibly soft jumper, and maybe…

Theon decides to try his luck with Snow’s dull horseface. Yeah, better. Not that he’s not pretty, he is (has been for some time, Theon _knows_ that, alright?), especially now when it’s not half-hidden behind unruly black curls.

“Well, thanks for coming,” Theon says and tries a nice smile, which isn’t hard at all when he focuses on the goal. That is, not being homeless for six more days. (It is _not_ getting into Snow’s pants, no sir.) “I hope I’m not keeping you from something important?”

Snow shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. The ongoing silence is starting to get to Theon - silence is one of his pet peeves, really - and to tackle that he starts to babble.

“Aren’t you all envious? Of Robb? I know I am. I could do with a vacation. Not that I’m stressed, but you know… Anyway, I was really bored and I thought we could just have a drink and well, here we are and…”

He trails off, slightly disturbed by Snow’s gloomy gaze. He’s just about to say something else entirely uninteresting, when suddenly Snow’s whole body relaxes and he smiles. It’s a real smile, wide and showing strong, white teeth.

For a moment Theon just gapes, incredulous, at the vision before him. Snow’s eyes crinkle at the corners, he leans forward and clinks his beer against Theon’s glass.

“Cheers then. I have to say, I wasn’t too much looking forward to going out today, you know, among people, but it’s actually nice to have a drink with a friend once in a while.”

A what? Theon swallows. Okay, he’s apparently made a mistake. He should’ve known from the butt and the chest and the new hairstyle. This isn’t Snow. This is some very hot guy with an uncanny resemblance to Snow. (It’s not that Snow wasn’t always hot, just… a different kind of hot. More like, unattainable hot, if that makes sense.) Or maybe it was aliens.

“Theon? You okay?”

Alien-Snow’s voice sounds worried - another proof this cannot be real Snow - and Theon shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he huffs. “You’re the one acting strange.”

“Hm.” Snow takes another sip from his beer, then licks a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. Theon blinks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, first,” Theon starts, to distract himself from that pink tongue now swiping across Snow’s bottom lip, “you’re talking to me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Snow bites on his lip and lets it slide free again. “What with Robb away… maybe I just want some company.”

Ah. Well. It’s not as if Snow doesn’t have any friends, but Robb can surely be considered his closest friend since they basically grew up together. Which includes Theon, too, so maybe that’s why Snow would choose him as his second best option. And fuck, he wants the keys and why not use the time it takes to get there to leer at Snow a bit. Not as if he would ever notice, the innocent maiden.

Who’s taking his leather jacket off right now, revealing just how tight that thin jumper really is. Theon catches himself ogling Snow’s arms. Good arms. Looking nice and strong and would look really good pinned to the bed above his head -

Okay, stop. Theon shakes his head. There’s absolutely no use thinking of Snow like that, he’d never… lean forward and brush his hand across Theon’s naked arm, what the fucking fuck?

Theon realises Snow has been talking the whole time, now he’s wearing an expectant expression, clearly waiting for an answer. Fuck, his lashes are _long_!

“Uh,” Theon says, and Snow smiles. Fuck. “Er… yeah, sure.” He crosses his fingers and hopes that this fits to whatever Snow had asked, or said. It must’ve, because Snow’s smile widens and he skids a little closer, nudging Theon’s leg with his own.

“It’s actually nice, to really talk to you for once. Normally we never do that, right?”

Normally you don’t talk that much in a month, Theon thinks. He shrugs non-committically. Is it his imagination or has Snow come closer again? His shoulder is touching Theon’s now, too, along with his thigh rubbing against Theon’s whenever he moves.

What the fuck, Theon thinks and downs his scotch in one drag. There’s only so many possibilities. Either Snow is high as fuck and won’t remember anything tomorrow, or the aliens have placed this changeling here instead of Snow. Either way he can finally do something he’s never dared to do before (in fear of being glowered to death, or worse, punched in the face. Or someplace more painful).

Slowly he raises a hand, and when Alien-Snow doesn’t flinch he brushes his fingertips across Alien-Snow’s cheekbones and down his neck. The changeling shivers and Theon smiles, playing with the hair tie holding Snow’s curls back.

“Don’t get me wrong, Snow, I like this new look,” he leans in, and in the same moment that he takes the tie out, whispers in Snow’s ear. “But fuck me, I always wanted to know how this feels.”

He buries both hands in Snow’s hair and kisses Snow full on those magnificent lips. Snow mumbles something suspiciously sounding like, there we go, against Theon’s mouth, but Theon really has no time to ponder that because now Snow opens his mouth and fuck, if this doesn’t feel fantastic.

***JJJ***

He has to confess, it’s really fucking hard not to lose sight of the purpose of this ridiculous charade when being kissed like that. Focus on the goal, Jon thinks, as Theon’s tongue is doing things to his mouth he hadn’t thought possible.

Of course, he could’ve figured Theon would be good at this, there has to be some reason why so many people actually fall for his dubious charms. Jon definitely isn’t one of them, this here is just for…

For his own peace of mind, there’s no way around it. For years Jon has watched him successfully hitting on everything with a pulse, wondering what it is that makes them all such easy prey for Theon. Everyone but Jon.

And he can’t even proudly say that it’s because he’s been able to withstand the siren’s call - no, it’s simply that Theon has never ever hit on him. Not even the tiniest hint, no innuendos, no drunken proposals, NOTHING. And as loath as he is to admit it, this nothing has always been gnawing at him.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Isn’t he handsome enough? Is his dick not big enough? Theon has seen him naked when they went to the sauna once. Maybe that’s it. Yeah, Jon knows he’s not a giant, alright, he’s more of a grower than a shower. Hard he’s got a nice average length, slightly more than average girth.

Or maybe it’s his hair? Theon has made fun of Jon’s hair since day one, so maybe he just can’t stand the thought of fucking someone with hair like that. And, Jon has to confess, he _is_ quite particular about his hair, and it does require some good deal of care.

Whatever it is, over the years it’s developed into a really unhealthy obsession. Jon’s only consolation had been that Robb seemed immune to Theon’s charms, too. Until that day when his world view had shattered into a thousand pieces.

Robb had been over at Jon’s, they had been playing some ego shooter nonsense game on his PS3, and after a lot of alcohol Jon had started to whine about his favourite topic again: Why won’t Theon hit on me? Robb, the sweetling, had listened to all of that with his usual angelic patience, until Jon had closed his speech with the fateful words:

“I’m just glad I’m not the only one.”

Robb had given him the most sheepish glance imaginable, and at first Jon had been thoroughly confused - until it had dawned on him. With a groan he had fallen backwards, the sense of betrayal nearly killing him.

“No! Please tell me it’s not true!” Robb hadn’t answered. “When? Where?”

“New Year’s? When we were sixteen? Theon must’ve been eighteen… Come on, Jon! He cornered me and I was drunk and I had always wondered what it’s like, and you know how Theon is-”

Robb had stopped talking when seeing Jon’s murderous glare.

“No. I _don’t_ know how Theon is. Because I’M THE ONLY FUCKING PERSON ALIVE THAT THEON GREYJOY WON’T FUCK!!!!”

So, this now, Theon Greyjoy’s tongue in his mouth and Theon Greyjoy’s hands in his hair and Theon Greyjoy basically sitting in his lap, can only be counted as a glorious victory. He could stop now. Say, thanks for the entertainment, give him the fucking keys Jon knows he needs and go home to revel in his triumph. But.

It’s really, really, _really_ good.

He tastes of whisky, dangerous and forbidden, unlike anything else Jon has ever tried. The little huffs, the tiny moans he makes, the way his fingers wrap around Jon’s neck now… it’s addicting, it’s perfect.

“Your place,” Theon murmurs against Jon’s mouth.

Well duh, Jon wants to say, of course his place. He wonders if Theon has lost the keys or forgotten them somewhere or left them inside of his and Robb’s flat. Robb had even placed a bet on losing the keys. Jon had been going with forgetting. Probably at some girl’s place. _I’m leaving my spare keys with you,_ Robb had said, winking. _He sure as hell will need them at some point._ Another ridiculous wink. _This could be your chance._

Jon had thrown a pillow at Robb, but on second thought… He was right. The perfect chance to try and seduce bloody Greyjoy, pushing all the buttons he has to, to make Theon fall for him. And while the original plan had only gone as far as kissing… well, Jon thinks, while he’s at it, he could try it out. So what if he’s just a notch in Greyjoy’s bedpost. At least he’s in good company there.

Twenty minutes and an uncomfortable (he’s so hard he’ll explode), very handsy cab ride later they’re inside Jon’s flat. He’s laid out Robb’s spare keys as prominently as possible, so Theon will see them immediately and doesn’t have to go through with the whole spiel if he’s doing it just for the keys. Jon holds his breath as Theon regards the keys, then shrugs.

“Don’t stand there like a moron, Snow, show me your bedroom.”

***TTT***

The keys are right there, with that fluffy little wolf toy of Robb’s attached to them, and all Theon has to do is take them, give some bullshit excuse for being tired or drunk or something, fuck off and forget about the whole thing. Nothing good can come from going to bed with Snow, he’s reasonably sure of it. Nothing but a (hopefully) good fuck.

So of course he stays. Theon looks around curiously while following Snow to his bedroom. He hasn’t been at his flat before and is surprised at how cosy it is, warm and with lots of pictures on every wall, mostly of family and friends. None of Theon, of course, except in group pics with Robb and the rest of their hometown gang.

Snow’s bedroom is nice, too, the bed unmade but looking clean enough, and suddenly Theon wants nothing but cuddle up in the thick duvet and take a nap. It’s been a long day after all, long and tiring and lonely, and while he’s not the type to stay after a fuck to cuddle, he bets Snow _is_ just the type, and maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, so...

He’s distracted from that thought by a rustle of fabric, and looks over just in time to see Snow’s jacket hitting the floor, followed by his jumper. Under which appears nothing but pale skin and hard muscles. Theon swallows. It’s been some time since he’s last seen Snow naked, at least five years ago, and he’s filled out _very_ nicely.

Theon hasn’t even looked his fill yet, but Snow is already working on his belt and before Theon’s even prepared for the sight, Snow’s trousers are down - no pants, _damn_ this is hot. And now Snow is standing there in all his naked glory, raging boner pointing towards his belly, looking at Theon with brooding expectation.

Okay, this definitely cannot be Jon Snow. Except for the brooding. Aliens. That’s really the only explanation, Theon is sure. And he wouldn’t be Theon Greyjoy if he didn’t take the chance with both hands. So, still fully clothed, he takes the two steps separating them and, burying both hands in Snow’s hair again (fuck, this feels so nice!), pulls him into a greedy, demanding kiss.

Snow reacts beautifully, he gasps, then groans and yields while his hands start roaming over Theon’s torso, to his shoulders and down his back where they firmly grip his buttocks. Theon moans into Snow’s mouth at that, it’s just how he likes it, a little rough, decisive and dominating.

Not that he’s not intent on fucking Snow, Theon absolutely is, would be a shame not to have a taste of that upstuck butt of Snow’s - but he cannot help wondering for a second how it’d be like to have it the other way round. Snow behind him, those firm hands grabbing Theon’s hips while pounding into him--

Theon shakes his head. This is just fun, just a one-time event while Snow is controlled by aliens. After the sex Theon will pinch the keys and they’ll go back to disliking each other. Simple. If he’d let Snow fuck him it’d mean… something else, really.

Resolved thus, Theon bends his head to nibble at Snow’s collarbone, eliciting a whole string of arousing sounds from him while letting a hand wander down to his cock. It’s nicely sized, not as long as Theon’s but slightly thicker, and again he wonders how it would feel to be split open by that, it’s the perfect size to have him feel comfortably sore for days afterwards, but not big big enough to really hurt…

Snow’s hands are now wandering to Theon’s belt, undoing it hastily until at last it is open, the button of Theon’s trousers undone and Snow’s fingers wrapped around Theon’s cock in his pants, eagerly returning the favour Theon is giving Snow. For a moment Theon wonders if Snow does this often, having random one-night-stands. His hand on Theon’s dick feels good, sure, as if Snow is doing that every day.

So what? It’s none of Theon’s concerns, really, if Alien-Snow shacks up with every dick in Westeros and beyond, it just means Theon isn’t the only slut in the room _and_ he doesn’t have to treat Snow carefully, like the blushing virgin he thought him to be. Instead he can go about this faster, rougher.

His next attack on Snow’s neck is thus a lot harder, no tender nibbling now, instead he sucks the soft skin hard into his mouth, working a deep bruise into it. _Theon Greyjoy was here._ He smiles at the thought, at leaving a mark on Snow that maybe his next lover will see, wondering who it was that was there before him.

He’ll fuck him good, Theon resolves, he’ll give it to Snow so good all lovers after him will pale in comparison. He’s curious, as to how good _Snow_ will be in bed. Not that it takes too much skill getting fucked, but involuntarily Theon’s thoughts stray the other way again. Would Snow be gentle with him? Would he be rough? Would he find all of Theon’s sensitive spots, would he fuck him as good as he dreams of being fucked?

Theon claims Snow’s mouth with new vigour, wet and warm and comfortable… Maybe it would be nice to have Snow fuck him, trust him enough for Theon to let himself fall and let go for once. Theon’s not sure if it will be as good as when he does it himself. Here’s a chance he could find out, he at least can trust Snow to not deliberately hurt him, or rat him out afterwards.

Snow’s hands have been immobile on Theon’s dick for the duration of the kiss, and now he takes them away altogether, the mean bastard. Before Theon can protest Snow’s intentions become clear - he kneels, fucking _drops down on his knees_ and takes Theon into his mouth with a long, drawn-out moan. Theon echoes that as soon as the wet heat engulfs him down to the root, and Snow doesn’t even gag - how often does he do this for fuck’s sake?

Well, in that case… Snow’s hands claw at Theon’s thighs as Theon wraps a hand in his hair, holds his head steady and starts fucking his throat, slow at first then faster when Snow doesn’t object or struggle. “Fuck, Snow…” Theon has been too deep in thought to talk until now, but once the dam breaks there’s no stopping the flood.

“Yeah, just like that… Your mouth is amazing, well trained, eh? I could fuck your throat all day, so hot, so good… Snow, you devil, if I knew how perfect you suck dick I’d’ve done it a fucking long time ago… Yes, swallow me down like a good little cocksucker…”

He doesn’t miss Snow’s upward glance at that, eyes dark with anger simmering in them, drool running down his chin as he lets Theon possess his mouth. His hand has moved down between his legs and he’s stroking his own prick in time with Theon’s thrusts, and suddenly it’s too much and Theon lets go of Snow’s head, lets him catch his breath while he takes a step back to sit on the bed.

“I could almost decide against fucking your arse, Snow… I would love to spill down your throat and drown you with my come, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Snow looks at Theon from his position on the floor, for a moment he’s motionless before getting up and, without a backward glance, leaving the room. Flabbergasted, his cock deflating a little, Theon looks after him, but then Snow is back already, a tube of KY in his hand and Theon grins. Alien-Snow is eager it seems. Well, Theon hates to disappoint such expectations.

“Come here, you. Give me that.”

Snow comes over alright, but instead of giving Theon the lube he spills some over his own hand and, producing a condom from somewhere, rolls it over Theon’s cock and coats it with the lube. The cock gets harder again under such attention immediately, and just in time, for Snow climbs into Theon’s lap, pushes him back and sits down. And cries out.

“Seven hells..!”

“Too big for you, baby?” Theon groan-chuckles, Snow’s ass feels brilliant around his dick, as tight as a virgin’s and so, so hot. “Not used to your lovers being this impressive, eh?”

Snow glowers at him, biting his lip and grounding down so hard Theon feels himself go balls-deep in him. Fuck, this is bloody brilliant! He leans back and closes his eyes.

***JJJ***

Jon silently prays the tears pricking at his eyes will stay where they are, he really doesn’t want to give Greyjoy the satisfaction of seeing him cry over a little fuck. With _little_ being the wrong word entirely, but still. It _hurts_. He’s never imagined it could hurt like this - why would all the world keep doing it if there wasn’t any pleasure in it?

And up to now it had been amazing, really, Theon’s hands and lips and teeth, his mouth hot and hard on his neck. He’d even liked the other stuff, when Theon had fucked into his mouth as if he’d lost all control. Jon nearly smiles at the thought, despite the burn and stretch in his arse, despite his dick having wilted somewhat. Apparently he gives good head, if Theon’s babbling has been any indicator. Ygritte had always said Jon’s got a natural talent, going down on her, and maybe this applies to dicks as well.

Theon’s hands are on his hips now, if to steady him or hold him down Jon doesn’t know. But Theon’s not moving, just laying back and panting and probably waiting for Jon to do something. The pain has dulled now, he’s getting used to having something (quite something, really) in him, and experimentally, Jon lifts himself a little onto his knees.

_Fuck!!!_

It feels strange, Theon’s dick leaving him, like the pressure is simultaneously increasing and diminishing, and Jon quickly lets himself slump down again. Theon moans, loud and wanton and it’s the most brilliant sound Jon has ever heard. He’s making Theon I’ve-fucked-a-thousand-people Greyjoy moan. He, Jon Snow, and on his first time with a guy ever!

Elated by the thought Jon places both hands on Theon’s chest to have some leverage, and starts to rock his hips. Up and down, accompanied by the most filthy squelching sounds coming from between them, up until Theon is nearly out and back down again, slightly forward at the same time -- Jon screams as Theon’s dick hits his prostate full force and for a moment he’s not sure if it is pleasure or pain shooting through him.

Theon’s eyes have snapped open and he looks at Jon suspiciously for a moment, before he suddenly sits up and mouths at Jon’s ear, his jaw, finally licking into his mouth. Gasping for breath between filthy kisses Jon only half-listens to Theon talking again, he’s much too busy focussing on how good it feels all of a sudden, Theon’s hands on his arse cheeks now, massaging them and pulling them apart to get deeper, Jon’s cock, hard again now, trapped between their bodies rubbing against Theon’s skin…

In the midst of all this Jon doesn’t stop moving, angling his hips to get the full impact again, but when it happens he still doesn’t expect the pleasure to burst through him, doesn’t expect his dick to throb and pulse and coat their bellies in his come. Theon tenses beneath Jon, maybe he doesn’t like being jizzed on, but then he suddenly clings to Jon’s shoulders and cries out, before slumping back seemingly boneless.

Jon climbs off a little awkwardly, sitting down next to Theon only to surge up again with a whimper. Deciding that lying down would probably be better, Jon does just that, face down and as far from Theon as the bed allows. He can hear him chuckle, then moving up and out of the room. Bathroom, probably, Jon suspects. He feels strange. His ass is throbbing, his thighs are shaking and there’s something like an emptiness in him.

Theon doesn’t come back for a long time. Jon wants to check if his clothes are still in here, but finds he’s unable to move. Maybe he’s gone. Has taken the keys and vanished again. Jon doesn’t know his modus operandi, maybe that’s how he always does it, and really, he didn’t expect anything else. So why is he feeling so stupid and strange, and why the fuck is he crying now??

“Snow?”

Damn. Jon tries to inconspicuously wipe his tears on the covers without giving away anything. But it’s no use. He’s still here, Jon thinks and promptly wells up again. So he keeps his head firmly pressed into the bed, determined not to move away until this stupid bawling has stopped. He jerks a little when he feels a hand gently being placed on his bum.

“Snow, stop playing dead and talk to me.” Theon sounds worried, about _Jon_ , and this causes a fresh wave of tears. “Was it that horrible? Hey, Jon?”

What an excellent timing, Jon thinks grumpily while trying not to sniff or make any noise at all, to realize that maybe his stupid obsession with Theon has deeper roots and other causes than he knew. In threat of suffocating, Jon turns his head to the other side of where Theon is sitting now next to him, hand still on Jon’s butt, stroking him ever so slightly.

“‘M fine,” he mumbles. “‘Twas good,”

Fucking hells, he's got a bloody crush on Theon Greyjoy

***TTT***

Snow is very obviously _not_ fine, that much is clear. Theon is at a loss. In his (not so humble) opinion the sex has been amazing, and there’s no apparent reason for Snow to act like a sullen, pouting brat now. He continues stroking Snow’s butt, because it feels nice and because Theon means to console him, for whatever it is that upsets the bloody bastard now.

It has been _really_ good, Theon thinks. Snow has been beautifully receptive, has looked so good when taking Theon’s dick deep and deeper, his eyes the moment his prostate was hit, his surprised shout, his - wait, what? Theon’s hand on Snow’s butt stills. Why would he be surprised? He should know how it feels, with his experience… and his… and…

“Snow?” Theon asks, alarmed. “Snow, was this your first time?”

No answer, but Snow’s shoulders tremble and Theon can see the parts of his neck that aren’t covered by his curls redden. Oh dear gods above and beyond. For a long while Theon justs sits there, feeling cold.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks at length. “I would’ve… we could’ve gone slower, make it easier. Did I hurt you much? Was it really bad?”

“Was okay. Didn’t hurt after the start.”

“Thank fuck,” Theon breathes, honestly relieved. It’s not that he dislikes Snow so much that he doesn’t care about hurting him, in truth Theon cannot help but like Snow, a little, and now a little more perhaps, after that confession. “Do you usually top then?”

Again, silence. And when the whole, ugly truth dawns on Theon he cannot believe it at all. “Snow,” he starts, barely keeping his countenance, “was this your first time with a guy?” A curt shrug, or rather something resembling a shrug is all the answer he gets. “But… you seemed to know what you’re doing! I thought you had loads of experience or I wouldn’t have...”

Finally Snow lifts his head, his eyes are a little puffy and he frowns. “So what, Greyjoy? Maybe I wanted to try it out and you were available, that’s all. No need to beat yourself up over anything, I knew what I was getting into and I enjoyed myself well enough, alright?”

And _that_ stings for some reason. Theon swallows. Well, now that they understand each other, or rather now that he knows what Snow is thinking of him - good for nothing but a fuck, just a means to scratch an itch, really, not more than a tool to get rid of his maidenhood - Theon jumps up, quickly gathering his clothes. In less than a minute he’s dressed. Snow watches him with a strange look.

“Well then, thanks for the fuck, Snow. I guess I’ll see you around when Robb is back.”

Snow doesn’t answer, a moment later his door falls shut behind Theon and he breathes a sigh of relief. Followed by a very loud, very nasty curse. The spare keys are still in there.

Luckily the pub is still open, and Theon ignores Dagmer’s insolent glances at his return. He grabs a pint and goes to sit at his favourite table from where he has a good view of the room, and possible prey. Theon sighs. He’s tired and weary, and he really doesn’t want to have to pull another guy or girl to have somewhere to spend the night. But he’d rather sleep on the street before going back to Snow’s and begging for the keys. Theon sniffs. His pride is seriously wounded, and by Jon Snow.

“There you go, you utter prick.”

The keys crush noisily onto the table before him, Robb’s keys, and Theon looks up at Snow glowering down on him, hands buried in his pockets. His lips are swollen, his hair is a ridiculous mess and he looks so sexy and fuck, Theon just wants to strangle him.

“How’d you find me?” he asks.

“As if that was so hard.” Snow rolls his eyes. “This is the only place where you have a tab.”

Theon grins weakly. True, he’s somewhat predictable. And really, it’s nice of Snow to bring him the keys and--

“Why do you know that I need them?” he asks, astonished.

Snow sighs, sitting down. He winces slightly at the movement, and Theon’s dick twitches. He’s definitely left an impression.

“What else could you want from me all of a sudden?” Snow smiles, seeming somewhat resigned. “And Robb and I actually have a bet running, on how you lose your keys. My guess was you’d forget them at some girl’s place, Robb was sure you’d lose them when you’re out.”

“Neither,” Theon mumbles. Robb the traitor! “Locked myself out of the flat.”

“And instead of just asking me you had to invite me here and pretend you like spending time with me?” Snow snorts. “As if I’d ever believe that.”

“I do like spending time with you,” Theon says, astonished, then shrugs under Snow’s sceptical gaze. “Alright, I am not _opposed_ to spending time with you. And, Snow…” He leans forward. “I definitely liked the time we spent today.”

This catches Snow cold, he shuffles on his seat, mumbling something unintelligible, then, “I’m sorry,” and now it’s Theon’s turn to stare at him.

“Whatever are you sorry for?”

“What I said,” Snow huffs, “about it being only… it’s not true anyway. I wanted to try it out, yes. But I wanted to try it out with _you_. For… like, a long time?” When Theon continues to stare at him open-mouthed (because fuck, is Snow declaring himself or what?), he grows agitated. “You hit on everyone okay? You fucked everyone we know, even Robb, everyone except me. And that… bugged me.”

What now? Theon shakes his head, rubs his ear. “When did I fuck Robb and why do I not know anything of it?”

“Theon!” Snow looks at him aghast. “You can’t - he told me of it, that one New Year’s when we were sixteen?”

“Oh dear,” Theon mumbles, “you don’t mean the time I _kissed_ Robb, right? Okay, maybe it was a rather filthy kiss, and a little groping and fondling might have been involved too, but I wouldn’t classify it as a fuck, and neither would Ro-- Snow, who are you calling?”

“Sssh!!!” Snow presses his palm on Theon’s mouth before listening intently to his phone. “Voicebox. Stark, if you hear this message, I swear I’ll get you for this!! You made me think - ouch!! Theon, stop biting me!”

Theon giggles when Snow removes his hand with a dark glare. “You know he’ll have a very different impression now from that message, right? He’ll think we’re in bed or something.”

“Shame that we aren’t.”

Theon’s breath catches, he stares at Snow who stares back equally surprised at his outburst. And now he’s blushing like a girl, looking really cute like that, and suddenly Theon thinks, why not?

“Still your place,” he says, thinking of how comfortable it is there. He takes Robb’s spare keys, placing them in Snow’s hand. “I won’t need these until tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow.”

Snow looks at him weirdly. “Are you moving in now or what?”

Theon shrugs. “Not much to do at home all alone. But if we go by my flat and get my wallet, I could treat you to a nice take-away. Which we eat at yours.”

After you’ve fucked the life out of me, goes unsaid.   


**Author's Note:**

> One prompt off my list, two thousand to go ^^'  
> Got any? Especially canon prompts, my mind is very bad at coming up with them.


End file.
